


Doors that never closed

by CodenameAntarctica



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameAntarctica/pseuds/CodenameAntarctica
Summary: (Set somewhen after "Pray in the Abyss")A chance meeting with Fei Long makes Asami contemplate about feelings he never wanted to admit and doors he had wanted to close, but never managed to.(First chapter from Fei Long's perspective, second from Asami's. Akihito does not appear but Asami thinks about him. Mikhail only appears at the end.)
Relationships: Asami Ryuichi/Liu Fei Long, Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito, Mikhail Arbatov/Liu Fei Long
Comments: 43
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

It was a luxury hotel as many others, set somewhere in the inner city so you could see the Wusong River and the colorful skyline of Shanghai beyond it from its upper floor and roof top terrace. The design was a combination between traditional Japanese elements, with paper lanterns and shoji wall decoration and bonsai that were older than nearly all the buildings in this city, and very modern minimalism – dark wood, extensive usage of glass and the occasional concrete wall.

The traditional style was to Fei Long’s liking, the modern parts were not very much. There was a reason why he had decorated the interior of his loft in one of the most modern buildings of Hong Kong – the IFC – with traditional Chinese furniture and art. The temporary elements felt harsh to him, cold – truthful in a way that made him feel uncomfortable.

But then again, he felt uncomfortable since he had set foot into the hotel. He had come here in answer to an invitation, because the man who had just opened the hotel to the public had been a friend of his father’s many, many years back. And even if that alone had made it possible for him to skip the visit, there was also some business he had had to take care of. This way he had combined two inconveniences into one, what didn’t mean that he felt any better.

Luckily the job was already done and all that was left _now_ was to attend the reception, shake some hands, have a drink and get out of there and back into his suite as soon as possible. He would have a good night’s rest and take his jet back to Hong Kong early in the morning.

Thinking about it made it seem like it was all behind him already. Nonetheless he found himself in the midst of the vast hotel bar, with that old friend of his father’s – William Zhou – clinging to his arm and introducing him to sheer thousands of people. It wasn’t like Fei Long didn’t know how to show himself in his best form in situations like these, no matter how much he dreaded them. He knew how to be the perfect gentleman, how to make that kind of conversation that felt polite and sincere and – still he never liked being in places like this, within crowds like this. They made him feel irritated… and naked, because like always all the eyes seemed to follow him wherever he went.

It took Zhou to finally climb upon some little stage that had been set for this occasion for Fei Long to eventually slip away from all the looks that never wanted to let go of him and of all the hands that wanted to touch him.

He drew himself into one of the far corners of the room, half hidden behind one of the old, large Bonsai, clinging to his glass of Bourbon and deliberating whether he could already get to his room, while Zhou was giving his speech.

At some point another person stepped close, leaning himself onto the wall and sipping on one of the glasses of incredibly expensive champagne, but Fei Long didn’t leave. Anybody else had made him search for another spot to hide, but with this one it wasn’t necessary – or even possible.

“You sure you want to drink?”, the man asked, some traces of a sneer audible in his voice.

“I’m not twenty-one anymore”, Fei Long answered.

He had seen Asami in the crowd before and even once in the lobby, but all they had exchanged had been a nod. Searching the people nearby once again, Fei Long was sure that Akihito wasn’t with him – a conclusion that made him down another sip of his Bourbon to burn down the disappointment.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here”, Asami continued, twirling his glass within his fingers as if to proclaim that this was far more interesting than whatever Fei Long would answer.

The Japanese was very likely here for the same reason: William Zhou was a very industrious man, having his hands in many businesses all around Asia, both legal and illegal. It had been likely that a man like Asami had been in contact with him as well. Actually, Fei Long knew that quite a large number of people he could identify right now in this room had their fair share of illegal ventures around Asia and he had done business with many of them.

“Usually I don’t attend ventures like this”, he answered. It was true. He would probably have found an excuse to not come here for the social part of the invitation if there hadn’t been some contract to elaborate with Zhou and one of his partners.

He could just leave his answer at that but for some reason, maybe because he had realized that Asami kept watching him out of the corner of his eye, instead of actually focusing on the twirling glass, he decided to go on: “Usually I'd leave affairs like this to Mikhail.”

“So, it _is_ true?”, Asami followed up, finally looking up and the sneer becoming more apparent on his face.

“What?” Fei Long asked, blinking at him innocently.

“I was told that there had been reached some kind of understanding between Baishe and the Arbatov bratva. Not that I _cared_.” He pushed his breath out through his nose in a harsh wheeze that almost sounded like a mocking laugh. “To me it just sounded like an exaggeration. I told myself that you probably had just finally allowed him to fuck you.”

“If you don’t _care_ , why the incredulity and derision? Right now, to me you sound like you’re either worried or envious. I’m just not sure which it is.”

Fei Long smiled at Asami darkly, and the Japanese emptied the last sip of champagne with a hollow laugh.

“Maybe I _am_ ”, he retorted, pushing himself away from the wall when another figure approached.

“Which of both?”, Fei Long asked but did not get an answer, before the man was gone.

The other person was not only _slightly_ less welcome to him but had become a business partner by the deal Fei Long had just negotiated with Zhou. Asher Goh was a man as tall and dark haired as Asami but at that all resemblance ended. He had been born in Singapore to a father who had been an ambassador for the city-state, and had grown up in Canada, South-Africa, France and Turkey, before studying in Cambridge and finding his way back to his birth town to make his first few millions – all in illegal businesses. Where he had gotten the knowledge and contacts, Fei Long did neither know nor care.

There was something rather vile about the man, who had had any opportunity to build his character and manners around the world but had seemingly decided to rely on his eerie eyes – they were nearly white – and deep, haunting voice.

A strange smile crept unto his face the moment he was alone with Fei Long and one large hand came to rest on the Chinese’s upper arm. Fei Long tried to dodge it, but there was no way to go.

“You promised to have a drink with me this evening”, the other man said in a voice as low as the rumbling of magma deep inside the earth. Usually that could have made Fei Long feel some little tingle within, but something in the way Goh looked at him, in the way his hand seemed sweaty and a bit too intimate made Fei Long want to crawl out of his skin.

“I don’t think I promised that”, he answered, knowing that for some stupid reason his voice sounded a bit too thin. He wasn’t afraid of the man, wasn’t intimidated by him. If anything, he was getting annoyed, but he could not cause a scene here. He could not do that to Zhou who seemed to think rather highly of Goh.

“I remember it clearly”, the other asserted, his smile growing wider, showing some gold teeth that somebody of his wealth didn’t need to have if he didn’t want them to show off. His fingers closed around Fei Long’s upper arm, pulling him out of the corner slowly but relentlessly. Then he snatched him around the waist with one arm, steering him through the crowd towards the large bar, and all Fei Long wanted to do was to free himself, to push the man away, to serve him with a kick to the head that would knock out each and every of those golden teeth. But he could not do that to the old man. And it was nothing but _one_ drink. He would manage _that_. He would teach Asher Goh in social graces even if any lesson was probably lost on the man. And after _one_ glass he would excuse himself, would bid good night to Zhou and would slip away from all of this.

A moment later he found himself maneuvered into one of the leather stools at the bar which was surprisingly empty. Most people seemed to prefer standing, walking around, chatting with a new person every other second, and waltzing back and forth between the huge buffet and the illustrious view of Shanghai by night.

“Bourbon, right?”, Goh asked, with still the same smile on his face and one of his large hands resting on the backrest of Fei Long’s chair. The Chinese confirmed with a nod and Goh ordered two glasses of the hotel’s most expensive Bourbon from the only waiter that seemed to be caring for this side of the giant bar.

While they waited, Goh didn’t say a single word. He just kept staring at the other from a few inches away, his smile not flickering once. Fei Long was glad when their glasses where finally placed in front of them, but he didn’t manage to reach for his own. Within a second Goh has snatched both by sticking his fingers into one, dragging it over the bar-table until the glasses clinked together, than pushing another finger into the second glass and lifting them up like that, raising them up close in front of his companion’s eyes. Fei Long blinked heavily in irritation, accepting the glass closer to him with reluctant fingers and feeling a frown growing on his face.

“To business!”, Goh breathed with his dark voice into his own glass, watching intensely as Fei Long repeated the toast in bewilderment.

“So…”, he followed up, taking another sip, and Fei Long just copied it, taking larger gulps than it was probably wise. He just wanted this to be over as soon as possible. Once his glass was empty, there would be no cajolery of Goh that would keep him here any longer.

Making his chair screech on the wooden floor, the Singaporean moved even closer, leaning in until his forehead nearly rested on Fei Long’s shoulder. He wanted to move away but - maybe just by coincidence - the rotatable chair was turned in a way that the back rest and the edge of the bar kept him from getting any distance between himself and the other man, while Goh’s hand kept the seat exactly there.

“Tell me…”, he added, sucking on his front teeth for a second, then sporting an even more vile smile: “…what do I have to do so you let me fuck you?”

Fei Long snorted. He took another too large sip of his drink. “There is nothing you can do. This is business. Nothing else”, he answered, his voice low but without any insecurity.

The only reason why he didn’t look up to serve Goh with an ice-cold gaze was that the man was just too close. He didn’t want to expose his face to him. Furthermore, he felt a little dizzy – certainly because of downing this second drink far too fast.

“You sure you want to drink?”, Asami had asked. Fei Long felt like laughing remembering that. Had he known about any of _this_ he had sticked to water!

But no laughter, not even a smile showed on his face. For even if they had been out of spite, Goh had probably tried to interpret them as consent.

“Mh”, the man growled, breathing heavily, inclining his head even more until his lips brushed over the jacket of Fei Long’s three-piece-suit.

“Stop that”, the Chinese hissed, to which Goh bared his teeth like he wanted to bite him.

“Do you always play hard to get? Because that gets _me_ hard. _Really_ hard!”

He leaned forward, snapping his teeth towards the other’s jawline and Fei Long flinched away leaning himself over the backrest to win some distance. He swallowed hard and downed the rest of the Bourbon.

“That was an interesting get-together”, he snarled then, finally turning towards Goh and burning him with eyes cold with anger. He only wished they were a bit steadier and more focused, because little did his gaze do to actually impress Goh. All the man did was sit back up and straighten the jacket of his suit, while the derisive smile did not even flicker.

“I tried it the forward, honest way”, he trilled. “Getting your consent. You could have just been kind and have spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

He sounded very happy with himself, still not moving his hand away from the backrest though Fei Long had grabbed his arm and pushed against it – his strength somewhat diminished by the alcohol. “But I never leave anything to chance. Remember that I would have done this gently, when you wake up aching tomorrow.”

Fei Long froze. This man seemed so incredibly full of himself it made him catch his breath in his throat. How the fuck could he even imagine he would get into Fei Long’s bed _now_ – after all _that._

Goh gave the answer without being asked. He took Fei Long’s glass that was completely empty, lifted it to one of his eyes and peered through it at the other like it was a telescope.

“Luckily you swallowed it all. Won’t be the last for you to swallow tonight.”

At that moment understanding hit Fei Long like a fist to the head. He clapped a hand in front of his lips. “You drugged me?”

He didn’t need an answer, for he knew the fast and heavy effect too much alcohol had on his mind and body very well - and in some way this _indeed_ felt different. Now that he realized, the room seemed to tilt slowly to one side only to suddenly rush back all the way and start again, while all the colors seemed to seep into each other and to dwindle away at the same time. He pushed back from the bar edge, pushing the chair over so that it fell to the ground, and had to clamber to the wooden table at the next second to not stumble himself.

Goh raised both his hand in innocence, sporting a patronizing smile.

“Proactive self-defense. I didn’t want a cat to scratch out my eyes while I delighted it with my cock. So… where to, now? Your room, or mine?”

He stood up and the Chinese pushed against him with both hands, which only made the smaller man stumble two steps backwards. There was no strength left in Fei Long. He wheezed for air for a moment, then turned around towards the crowd, which was so well occupied with indulging in its own existence. Shortly his eyes darted through the room, searching, for there might be one man, who could save him – if he wanted to. But he didn’t find him in the disarray of colors and shapes.

“Don’t follow me!”, he hissed at Goh, pushing himself forward and somewhere into the chaos, not sure if there actually was a path. Several times he had to close his eyes, forcing his feet to take step after step nonetheless, hopeful that he would find one of the doors leading out of the giant room. And indeed, he finally did, falling out through the doors into one of the richly decorated, silent corridors of the hotel, just like Alice had fallen through the rabbit hole. Moments later he found himself clinging to the wall, leaning against it as if it had become the floor and he was lying on it, inversed gravity keeping him there.

He would have liked to stay there, hoping that this very spot was a place of safety, but when the large doors to the bar opened again and he managed to take a glance backwards, Goh was only a few yards away, his steps heavy on the thick carpet.

Fei Long fought for breath, when he forced himself further on, still clinging to the wall like for a last straw of hope. Whatever drug Goh had served him, it was not only tearing on the natural order, making colors and shapes change their purpose, turning up into down and left to right, it also made some blackness creep into his mind, dulling his thoughts and senses, and made his lungs ignore the air that was reaching them like they didn’t care for life anymore.

Nonetheless he pulled himself forward on the wall, not sure if there really was anything to pull at, while the steps behind him now sounded as heavy as the thumping of his heart. He knew he wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight, as the predator finally reached its prey. Still, he pushed himself away from the wall, his fists punching forward, to defy whoever dared to come near him, and the other dodged them easily. Then he was swooped off his feet. Certain he would fall he grabbed the only thing he could reach – the black front of a suit jacket, and his eyes darted upward from that deceiving hand, whose action Goh would certainly declare to prove his consent.

But it wasn’t _him_.

Fei Long heard a sigh steal itself from his lips, finding himself staring up into golden eyes.

“I think it‘s time for you to go to bed”, Asami said.


	2. Chapter 2

The Japanese’s eyes darted down the corridor where Goh still stood, a leering grin showing on his face that slowly succumbed to a mask of anger. Asami had been watching the two men at the bar for a while, had noticed Fei Long leaning away from the other, shooting him a piercing look at some point. He had also seen him letting his gaze hurry through the room searching for something, and for some odd reason, Asami had _known_ that Fei Long had been looking for _him._ So, he had followed them outside, had stopped Goh from any further pursuit with a heavy hand on his shoulder and had finally caught Fei Long when he had seemed about to fall.

The Chinese man was still light as a feather in his arms. Seven years had not changed anything in that. His eyes fluttered shut a moment later, but the grip of his fingers at the collar of his captor’s jacket did not lessen.

“Not drunk…”, Fei Long whispered, the effort to phrase words clear in his voice.

“What’s your room number?”, Asami asked, but all he got from Fei Long was a shrug of the head, which he only felt against his chest.

“Don’t…” Fei Long tried to answer but his voice trailed away quickly.

Asami adjusted him in his arms, making the few steps ahead towards the lift, calling it down and punching the button to the 17th floor inside. Fei Long’s room very likely wasn’t a save place for him anyway.

In the seconds inside the elevator the Chinese suddenly stirred. He looked up at the black ceiling in which sheer thousands of tiny stars glimmered – nothing but LEDs shoving their light through small holes in a night-colored acryl-panel to give a nice effect and lighting to the elevator otherwise decorated with golden metal pieces and several mirrors. For Fei Long however, whose consciousness seemed to be flickering on and off already, it obviously had a stunning effect. He let go of Asami’s jacket and raised his hand towards the ceiling though that was far beyond reach.

“Stop that”, Asami growled and the hand was snatched back like the one of a child that had been caught pinching a bite from the birthday cake before it was being served.

With a _‘ping’_ that made Fei Long twitch, the elevator opened its doors and Asami stepped outside, following the corridor to the very last door and kicking it. For seconds there was no reaction from inside, but he just stood there, right in front of the peephole, listening to Fei Long’s breathing that was becoming shallower by the moment. If this was Goh’s doing, he had been very thorough, making sure he would not find much resistance in Fei Long against whatever he had planned to do. And Asami could very well imagine what that had been.

Quietly the door finally opened and the surprised look on Kirishima’s face - because Asami had kicked the door instead of opening it with his own keycard - only grew when he saw that his master was not alone.

“Fei Long?”, he asked a question that needed no answer – Kirishima knew the man in Asami’s arms well enough. He stepped aside, to allow his master in and closed the door behind them. Passing the likewise surprised gaze of Suoh, Asami headed through the vast suite straight for the master-bedroom and laid Fei Long on the giant, king-size bed.

Right now, the Chinese seemed more awake than he had been moments before, but his eyes darted around the room unfocused.

“What happened?”, Asami asked, sitting down on the side of the bed. Fei Long didn’t as much as even blink to the words, so the Japanese grabbed his upper arm, tugging on it so hard, he dragged the other man a few inches across the sheets. It didn’t help, but only made the Chinese gasp in surprise or pain.

“Fei Long! What happened?”, Asami repeated. He could hear a low growl accompanying his words – a feature of his voice that he knew very well to usually only show when he was trying to scare the shit out of someone or was highly irritated.

The long, black lashed fluttered towards him, blinking several times, while Fei Long seemingly tried to clear his view.

“Don’t…”, he whispered. “.. know. My… my drink…”

Then his eyes fell shut. Asami let go of his arm and slapped him on the cheek – not fiercely enough to hurt or bruise, but hard enough for Fei Long’s eyes to open in shock.

“ _What_ did he put into your drink?”, Asami heard himself ask very distinctly, slowly, pronouncing every syllable, though the other was now again blinking around the room unfocused.

“We’ve… been here before”, he whispered finally, his voice trailing away in his shallow sighs for breath.

“What?”, Asami retorted sharply.

“Where’d… you put my… my coat?” Fei Long lifted one hand to the front of his dress shirt, but his fingers just hardly touched it, like they couldn’t feel the fabric anyway – or like whatever they touched was only in his imagination.

Asami shrugged away some strange chill that might have gotten into the bedroom through the door to the living room of the suite. Maybe the air conditioning of both rooms were fighting against each other.

“What did he…”, he tried to ask again, straining his voice even more to pronounce every word as clearly as possible, yet he stopped midsentence when Fei Long’s gaze suddenly found him. His eyes seemed absent, too bright and incredibly tired, his lashes appeared to be too heavy now for his lids to keep them up. They started fluttering up and down again with the Chinese trying to focus his view. Asami could see how he slowly lost the battle for his consciousness.

“As..ami”, he whispered.

“What?”, was the answer, less a spoken word than a low growl.

“Please… don’t…”, Fei Long lifted one hand, but where it wanted to go never became clear as it fell back onto the white linens of the bed a second later. “Please… don’t hurt me.”

Then his eyelids fell shut, his pupils stopped moving underneath and the only life that there was left was the hardly discernable movement of his chest and the nearly inaudible draws of breath.

Asami clicked his tongue in irritation, like that could scare away any other instinct in him. It didn’t help though.

“I won’t”, he answered, his voice low but without any uncertainty. He dragged the blanket over the sleeping man, before calling Kirishima in.

“Get down to the bar, take Suoh. There’s a barkeeper. Elderly man, grey hair, circular hair loss on the back of his head. He’s the only one like that. Make him talk. I want to know if he drugged or poisoned him, what he used and who asked him to.”

With that both men were gone and Asami found himself alone with Fei Long, who lay there as quiet as a porcelain doll – the prettiest in the world probably. Whatever anger Asami might ever had felt, whatever vengeance he might ever had imagined to execute: here was the chance, and Fei Long would not even remember it had been _his_ doing the next morning.

But Asami found no desire for any of that within him. There was no joy in hurting Fei Long anyway because you could never get him into submission that way. In this he was the opposite of Akihito, who it had been possible to persuade or force into submission by words and deeds, making him believe that he wanted what was done to him. With Fei Long that would never work.

It was a truth that he had learned many years ago and within the shortest time, but for long he had been convincing himself otherwise. With _that_ – with ignoring his knowledge, with bending his understanding and instinct to his will – he had been quite successful for most of his years, even if sometimes, very rarely, it came back to haunt him, threatening his life. He had learned to deal with that, mostly by crushing whatever danger dared to turn his way. But _that_ had never been the hard part of it anyway.

The hard part was to admitting to any of it.

He lay down on the side of the bed, leaning his head onto one hand. I had taken him ages to finally admit his love to Akihito in words, and he had only done so when it had seemed that there might never be another chance. But he had known the extent of his feelings long, long before that. Admitting them, speaking them out aloud however was the difficult part, because as long as he didn’t do _that,_ he could pretend that it wasn’t the truth. He could pretend it in front of others as much as before himself, declaring his emotion to be nothing but bits of stupid thoughts now and then popping up in his mind, and he could just toss them away like they had never been there in the first place. No matter how nagging they were, no matter how much he knew them to be true: as long as he didn’t voice them, they would remain in himself as frail as air bubbles and he could just poke them out of his consciousness.

But he had loved Akihito long before he had ever dared to face the thought. And he had known long before he ever allowed this wisdom to flood his mind, that he cared for Fei Long, that he wanted to protect him. Admitting to that however would have endangered his job. Furthermore, it had meant for him to confront the fact that Fei Long had become a weak spot for him, and he had never had one, had never seen himself as a man who could have one at all.

But raising one hand to Fei Long’s forehead to make sure that he wasn’t getting any fever, he felt like admitting to it once. Maybe that was a triumph for Akihito who had been pushing some light into his dark world.

He stroked away a few black strands that had fallen into the sleeping beauty’s face.

A weakness Fei Long had become for him and if he had allowed himself to comprehend that fact earlier, then maybe the disaster of seven years back could have been avoided.

Asami snorted a quiet laugh.

“You’re a real nuisance, you know that?”, he whispered but did not get any sign of being heard from the other man.

In a way, he thought now, it had been inevitable: For him to fall for Fei Long. Though it had not been for the same reason which almost everybody else seemed to have. No, Asami wasn’t blind, had never been. Fei Long was probably the most beautiful creature in existence – or at least Asami would swear that he was until he was proven otherwise. But it had never been about appearance.

Instead, he knew he had seen _himself_ in Fei Long in a way. Their backgrounds had been alike, their families tied deeply into the underworld. But there was one difference between them: Asami had always had a choice. There had been times in his life when he had wanted out, times when he had decided to not go the way his father would have him. For those reasons he knew he had fallen in love with Akihito – who would likely against all odds always remain somewhat on the light side of that border between heaven and hell. All that the kid had been through had only made Asami more and more sure of this. Despite his wishes and his desire to cling to Akihito as his last saving rope to the light, Asami had at some points of his life made those decisions which had inevitable made him a criminal. Fei Long however had never had those choices. From the day he had been taken in by the Liu family his fate had been bound to that of Baishe.

Therefore, placing him at the head of Baishe for his own protection – somehow that hadn’t sounded completely irrational when Toh had presented his ideas to an Asami seven years younger. Not that he had bothered back then. He had listened to the man who had flown him in first class, and had promised him not only an exorbitant paycheck but also a hand in some very lucrative businesses. Asami had listened to Toh’s ideas of a Baishe controlled by him through his natural son, of saving both that son and the organization from the incompetence of Liu Yan-Tsui. But when he had left Toh, Asami had not cared about any of that. What he knew was that he had to play a rich kid into betraying those he loved – a job like many others.

To that thought he had clung: A job just like any other!

He had clung to it even when every sane instinct within him had tried to tell him otherwise. He had clung to it when for days he had been ignoring the truth, trying to convince himself of lies that he would have felt ashamed of to try on anybody else.

In the end his own denial, his own stubbornness to not admit to what was brooding inside him, had cost them both dearly. Fei Long had nearly paid for it with his life, had lost his family, had lost Baishe, spent months in prison and rebuilt the organization afterwards with great effort and danger to his life. Asami on the other hand had shot his employer – the one man he was to protect against all danger – both in fear for Fei Long’s safety and in burning white rage, and then he had turned tail, running back to Japan with a screwed up job on his agenda and empty hands, slamming an imaginative door shut behind himself like he could lock all memory and feeling behind it.

It had worked well enough, so that when he had sent Yoh to spy on Fei Long he had convinced himself that it was nothing but that: the man was to keep tabs on the kid so he would not do anything stupid, would not indeed seek revenge. Of course, he had also told Yoh to protect Fei Long, but that – he had always assured himself – was only because Yoh becoming his bodyguard was the easiest way for him to keep close to the other. It was a lie like many others and Asami had always been aware of it, poking the air bubble of this truth with an imaginary finger whenever it dared to float into his mind.

 _‘I should have left you there… in the rain’,_ he now thought to himself. That would have been the last way out. He had found Fei Long barely conscious outside his family home in the pouring rain, and he should have just left then and there. Or he should have packed Fei Long into his car and have brought him straight to Toh, not caring about the outcome. He shouldn’t have taken Fei Long back to his guest house, shouldn’t have tugged him into bed, spending hours watching and worrying over him while he slept – just like now.

He also should never have touched him _like that_. But that again had just been his stubbornness interfering with better knowledge. With other kids, who he had played before, pulling them into bed, touching them, forcing them … that had worked marvelously. They were spoiled brats, used of having whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. They were used to being pampered and coddled. The sex they understood as Asami swearing something to them – promises he naturally never intended to keep – or him proving his loyalty – which was only ever there towards his employer. But Fei Long had been different.

Asami had – against all better knowledge – played with a fractured doll, breaking it apart for real. Where others had grown in confidence and had finally made their choice to betray their families just because Asami had fucked them once – only touching him had left Fei Long even more confused than before. Still, it hadn’t kept him from running off to see his father in the end. Because convincing Fei Long against his own character wasn’t possible. He wasn’t as stupid as all the others had been, he was just lost in the labyrinth of the ever-doubtful darkness of his mind.

Quiet noises in the next room announced Kirishima, who stepped into the bedroom with a knock a moment later. Asami had already sat up and followed the man outside. Opening the vast window that allowed to step out onto the balcony, he lit himself a cigarette.

“We’ve got him. He’s talking, but he claims he doesn’t know what exactly he put into the drink. But he gave us this”, Kirishima explained, handing Asami two empty blister packs. “We had him crawl through the garbage to find them.”

Asami took the plastic pieces, reading the writing on the back: “Rohypnol. Lunesta.”

“Fuck”, he snorted. “How many did he put in?”

Kirishima shrugged. “He claims that he does not remember, but we will help him with that. He got paid 50.000 Yuan for the job, had the money still with him.”

With a very long draw from his cigarette, Asami thought for a moment. “Keep the money, make him remember how many pills of each he put into that drink. He must have dissolved or even crushed them before, so he should have an idea. Then make sure he understands that he better disappeared into some deep, dark whole, for if Fei Long ever finds him, it won’t end pretty.”

Within a moment Kirishima was gone again, Asami threw away his cigarette and stepped back into the bedroom.

Fei Long hadn’t moved an inch. If he had been drugged with a mixture of both pills, he was likely to stay like that for several hours, but at least it meant that it was not necessary to get him into medical care. He only needed to be watched.

“Nasty friend you got there”, Asami snarled, without getting any reaction, but it made him think of something. He stepped over to the far side of the bed, removed the blanked, took of Fei Long’s jacket and started to search its pockets. However, what he had been looking for he only found when he had placed the jacket at the wardrobe and had examined the pockets of the man’s trousers: Fei Long’s phone.

For a man in his position – as the head of Baishe - using a fingerprint to unluck his phone was a really dumb idea – therefore Asami didn’t even try it. Fei Long would never be that careless or stupid. It meant that there was no way of doing a phone call with it, but maybe someone would call, and given the kind of phone, Asami knew that it would be possible to answer that call without knowing the pin code.

He placed the device on the bed between both of them, lying down again.

Hours passed with the moon wandering outside the large bedroom doors and Asami’s men returning. Now and then he would raise a hand to Fei Long’s forehead or cheeks, making sure there still was no fever, and once or twice he even pinched him in the arm, to see if there was any reaction at all – and not getting any.

At some point he fell asleep and it was the ringing of Fei Long’s phone that startled him awake though the volume was set very low. He snatched the device, ready to answer the call, when he hesitated for a moment. He knew the song that played. Never would he have imagined Fei Long to use such a tune. _“I once kneeled in shaking thrill, I chase the memory of it still, of every chill. Chided by that silence of a hush sublime. Blind to the purpose of the brute divine. But you were mine”_ , sang the baritone voice into the silence of the room, the phone slightly vibrating in Asami’s hand, while he stared at the name on the display. Never – he thought – would he have imagined Fei Long to use such a tune, but maybe the owner of the name had changed that: Mikhail stood written there. Not even a surname attached.

"Worried or envious? Which of both?", Fei Long had asked him and he had used the approaching Goh as an excuse not to answer, because he plainly didn't know. Yes, the powers of Baishe and the Arbatov bratva combined could be a threat to his businesses. Baishe alone was a lot to take, while the Arbatovs had been active mostly in Russia, where Asami rarely ventured. Still he had often enough come to dread the trouble they brought, whenever they had lashed out into territory that he considered his own. Naturally, the rumors of both powers finding an understanding, working together, that had been a blow to the criminal world of Asia, and Asami had not been able to ignore it, even if it hadn't seemed like there was an immidiate threat to himself. But thinking about it, was that really all there was?

Or was he indeed envious of Mikhail Arbatov in a way?

No, he hadn't loved Fei Long romantically, had never seen him as a potential lover. They were too alike in some ways, too different in others. There never had been a future for any romantic involvement between them, no matter what feelings had ever kindled inside Fei Long. They would have had each other's eyes out within a week. And still... it felt odd to know that there was another man now. A man more imporant to Fei Long than himself. It was not the jealousy of a lover scorned though, yet it still hurt his ego.

Growling Asami accepted the call and held the phone to his ear. “Hello, your grace. Hadn’t you promised to call me?”, trilled that always joyous voice of the Russian in English. And for a short moment it gave Asami endless content to know that it would be _him_ that would answer. _Him_ lying on a bed next to a completely defenseless Fei Long. He would have loved to see Mikhail’s face at the moment he would hear Asami speak, he would have loved to know what chills of horror would befall the Russian… but that stroke of infamy evaporated quickly. He cleared his throat, speaking slowly but unequivocally: “He was drugged. Not by me. I just got him out of there. He’s asleep. I didn’t touch him.”

Still there was a silence on the other end, to which Asami closed his eyes. He thought of Akihito, imagined his smile. Something made his heart thump heavily against his chest for several beats.

“What… What happened?”, Mikhail finally asked, his voice clearly straining to remain calm and quite, and Asami started to explain.

He got back to sleep a few minutes later, knowing that his place to watch over the sleeping beauty would soon enough be taken over. Mikhail, who had attended some business meeting in Moscow, had already changed his flight plane to Shanghai instead of Hong Kong as a surprise for his apparent lover and had called Fei Long the instant he had gotten out of the jet – in complete disregard of the early morning hour.

When he woke up again, it seemed to him like Fei Long had stirred a bit, like he might have tilted his head to one side if only by an inch. He reached for his arm but different from before just squeezed it very lightly. The Chinese however did not react.

Asami got up, packed the little luggage he had brought for the short trip and carried his bag into the living room where both Kirishima and Suoh sat, already waiting.

It hadn’t even been necessary for Asami to set the alarm of his own mobile phone to wake up at the right time – instinct had done that job. The same instinct which he often enough disregarded whenever it did not suit the picture he had of himself. But that instinct had told him that Akihito was special, that he _wanted_ him, that he _needed_ him, long before he had ever dared to allow any emotion to have a word in any of that. And that instinct had made him follow Fei Long and Ashen Goh out of the bar. It had made him shoot Toh, and it would have helped him prevent all of the misery and chaos which had been _his_ fault alone seven years back, if he only had listened to it early enough.

Also, it had bound him to Fei Long and Fei Long to him, and for that he was grateful.

A knock chased him out of his thoughts. He signaled his men to remain seated, checked the peephole, then opened the door.

Mikhail stepped inside, only regarding the other two men with short nods. “Where is he?”, he asked, turning around to Asami, again fighting for his voice to remain calm. He was dressed in a brown suede jacket over a black shirt and blue jeans, all of which would have made him look like a civilian if it weren’t all clothes of incredibly expensive designer brands.

What hardly matched his casual attire though was the look on his face. His blue eyes were overshadowed by worry and fatigue.

Asami led him into the bedroom and filled him in with the little knowledge they had, while Kirishima and Suoh got ready to leave. They would return to Japan, leaving Fei Long in the hands of Mikhail, who now sat down on the bed caressing the sleeping beauty’s cheek with a gentle hand.

“Fei Long”, he whispered.

Asami turned around. There was nothing for him to do here anymore, he decided, but stopped nonetheless halfway through the door.

“Mikhail”, he said aloud, seizing the other’s attention, “Don’t hurt him, or you’ll have to answer to me!”

The Russian nodded. In any other situation there might have shown a stupid smile on his face but now there wasn’t. If possible, his eyes became even fiercer and more serious. “I won’t”, he answered, and Asami left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned is Hozier's "Better Love", which he wrote for the movie "The Legend of Tarzan"
> 
> "After viewing an early edit, I was struck by the theme of endurance, and endurance of love through such a hostile environment. I wanted the song to be an intimate reassurance as spoken from one lover to another - one that might be issued in hardship or doubt." - Hozier, 2016


End file.
